


Jumble Of Dots

by Idzzdi



Series: Your Eyes, For Me [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Blind Character, Blindness, Disability, Falling In Love, First Dates, First Kiss, Love, M/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-19
Updated: 2014-08-19
Packaged: 2018-02-13 21:49:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2166408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Idzzdi/pseuds/Idzzdi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You're blind,” he states bluntly, feeling like a right idiot.<br/>“Actually, I'm Louis. And you must be Sherlock, nice to meet you,” is the reply he gets and Louis holds out his hand for Harry to shake.<br/>“Um, 'm name's Harry actually."</p><p>or; the one where louis is blind and runs over harry with his skateboard and then it's meet cute</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jumble Of Dots

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Polski available: [Jumble Of Dots](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5941453) by [youcanbeenough](https://archiveofourown.org/users/youcanbeenough/pseuds/youcanbeenough)



> Eyo guys!  
> I don't know where the inspiration for this came from. It's a little different from what I usually write, but I hope you like it anway :)
> 
> The title refers to a description of what braille feels like I found on the Internet and I though it was kinda cute.
> 
> Also: I'm not blind, I don't know anyone who's blind. Everything about blindness in this fic is either from my own brain or from the internet - neither of which are reliable sources. So: big SORRY in case I got anything wrong, feel free to let me know, I'll try to change it or at least keep it in mind for the next time.

Harry doesn't think of much as he trudges out of the library on a late Tuesday night and down the road with his heavy books in his arms. He certainly doesn't think about wild crazy boys being out and about with their skateboards, running right into him with monumental force, but of course that's exactly what happens.

“Fuck,” he curses as he goes down, landing half on top of his books and half on top of the boy who just ran him over.

“Oh shit,” he hears someone else curse, a couple feet away and then footsteps coming closer. “Louis, are you okay?” the same voice asks and Harry still can't see the source of it, but the boy underneath and on top of him – they _are_ tangled up pretty good – just groans in response.

“Get the fucking board,” he, who Harry assumes is Louis, growls, before retreading his legs from underneath Harry, but not without kicking him at least two more times. The source of the mysterious voice is running past them now and Harry can see a boy sprinting down the road to chase the skateboard that is still rolling with the impact of their crash.

“Sorry about that, didn't see you there,” Louis says , rubbing the inner side of his left knee with his palm.

“I was right in the middle of the road!” Harry protests with a huff, starting to gather his books back into his arms. When he gets no reply however he turns back around to face Louis again and gets a good look at his face. His eyebrows are raised in an almost challenging way, but his eyes are unfocused and glassy, pointing in different directions, neither of which are anywhere near where Harry is sitting.

“You're blind,” he states bluntly, feeling like a right idiot.

“Actually, I'm Louis. And you must be Sherlock, nice to meet you,” is the reply he gets and Louis holds out his hand for Harry to shake.

“Um, 'm name's Harry actually,” he says, still lightly embarrassed, unable to keep his eyes off of Louis'. They're a dull blue and moving as Louis speaks and as he turns his head. Harry finds it fascinating.

Before he can make another move, the boy from before comes jogging back towards them, skateboard in hand and a worried look on his face.

“Don't frown, Zaynie,” Louis says from behind Harry and holds out a hand, which the boy that just arrived takes immediately to pull Louis up.

“Sorry about that,” he mumbles quietly and Louis shakes his head.

“Don't apologize to me, you've let me run into plenty of things before,” he says with an easy shrug and then turns back into the general direction of where Harry is still sitting on the ground, books clutched to his chest.

“Oh yeah, sorry mate, are you okay? No broken bones?” the boy asks as he holds out a hand to help Harry up.

“No, 's fine,” Harry mumbles, a little dazed.

“'m Zayn by the way. I'm babysitting Louis over here,” he explains with an apologetic grin.

“Hey!” Louis whines from behind him. “I believe it's called being best friends.”

“No, I believe it's called you running off and doing stupid things and me running after to you to simply _see_ the mess you made. And then clean it up for you.”

“You let him get on a skateboard?” Harry interrupts incredulously. “He's _blind_.”

“And he's Sherlock,” Louis whisper shouts, but Zayn only ignores him.

“I didn't _let_ him. He just got onto it and shouted 'Give me directions,' before he was off. But I honestly didn't think anybody was still out this time at night, so yeah, sorry. Wasn't really paying attention.” He gives Harry another apologetic shrug.

“Yeah well, next time maybe take him to a more secluded area and not the _street_ ,” Harry suggests and it comes out meaner than he means for it to. Louis only growls at him.

“I'm blind not deaf, so please stop talking like I'm not standing right next to you. Also, I'm not a dog. I don't need you take me anywhere. I go wherever I please.”

“And that's exactly the problem,” Zayn finishes with a sigh, but he has a fond look in his eyes as he grabs Louis' hand and places it around his own bicep. “Let's go home before you run over more innocent bystanders.”

“'m not a child,” Louis mumbles angrily, but lets Zayn drag him along, who only gives Harry a quick wave over his shoulder, before the two of them disappear into the night.

Harry stands and stares for a moment or two to collect his thoughts, then shakes his head and makes his way back to his own apartment.

 

~

 

Harry doesn't think much about the incident from Tuesday night, at least not until he sees Louis again. It's during the day this time and it's the next Monday, just after Harry got out of class. He's leaving the building with nothing special on his mind when he spots the same boy that came crashing into him almost a week ago, struggling to get something out of his bag.

Harry doesn't plan on going over to him, but suddenly his feet are leading the way without his brain's permission. He stops a couple of feet away, trying to come up with something to say that isn't “Fancy  _seeing_ you here.”

Before he gets to say anything though, Louis stops rummaging in his bag, looks up at the general direction of where Harry is standing and snaps at him. “What are you looking at?”

“Um,” Harry hesitates for a moment, holding his breath as he thinks of something to say. “Hi?”

A frown appears in Louis' face right away. “We met,” he states, straightening out his back, a book and some sheets of paper in his hands.

“Uh, yeah. Harry, remember? You ran me over with your skateboard last week?”

Louis' frown only deepens.

“You called me Sherlock?”

“Yeah I _know_ who you are. I don't run over that many people.” A small smile dances across his lips. “What do you want?”

“Well, er,” Harry hesitates, but then decides to simply tell Louis the truth. “You looked a little lost? Just thought I'd come check if you could need some help?”

Louis only blinks at him, wrinkles his nose and then bends back down towards his bag. “Thanks for the sentiment, but I'm not lost. Just looking for something.”

“Okay,” Harry drawls slowly, stepping a bit closer. “Want me to take a look? I mean, because, you can't and- not that you can't find things, I just, um.” He stops abruptly, biting his tongue.

“Best you keep your mouth shut, my dear Harry,” Louis tells him with a small smirk, tugging on the corners of his lips as he keeps on going through the bag, taking items out individually and feeling along the edges. He has a lot of books, Harry notes, and little tools, that look like they were probably made for writing, but they're nothing like the pens Harry knows.

“Oh god dammit,” Louis mumbles finally, reaching up into his hair and then padding down the pockets of his trousers. “'s like the fifth pair of sunglasses I lost this summer,” he mumbles more to himself to anybody else, but Harry can help but chuckle at his words.

“What?” Louis snaps again and Harry has to suppress more laughter as he takes another step towards the smaller boy.

“Here, they're..” he starts and the trails off as he reaches towards the front of Louis' shirt and pulls them out, where they were tucked into the neckline. He unfolds the sunglasses and carefully tugs them behind Louis' ears, lets the boy push them up his nose the rest of the way. Once they're in their right spot Louis gives Harry another frown and then looks towards the ground. Harry can't help but laugh.

“Stop laughing,” Louis growls, but it sounds less snide than before. “I don't need your help.”

“You would have gone to buy a new pair of glasses with the ones you already own tucked into your shirt,” Harry states, chuckling some more.

“You're horrible for picking on a blind.”

Harry only laughs again.

“Now you owe me,” Louis bites, huffing as he stuffs the items he pulled out of his bag back into it again.

“ _I_ owe _you_?” Harry asks back, amused.

“Yes, you owe me. For being a twat. Now tell me if I got everything, I don't much fancy crawling around on the floor to feel around if I got all my stuff.” He vaguely motions towards the ground around them and Harry has to suppress more laughter. Louis is the most demanding yet charming little thing Harry has ever met, despite - or maybe because of - his handicap. It's still very fascinating to Harry.

“So,” Louis prompts with a small motion of his hand and a lift of one of his shoulders.

“Er, yeah,” Harry replies, snapping out of his thoughts. There's a book lying right next to Louis' left foot with a red cover, but no writing on it. There are however, little molds and bumps which Harry thinks must be braille.

“Um, here, wait,” he says as he bends down to pick up the book. When he leans closer towards Louis' leg the boy takes a step back. “Giant red book,” he comments as he hands the book over into Louis' outstretched waiting hands. The boy runs his hand over the cover and along the spine of the book before giving Harry an unimpressed look through his sunglasses.

“It's a dictionary,” he says like that's something Harry should know.

“Obviously.”

“It says it right here,” he huffs and reaches out for Harry's hand. His fingers land on Harry's chest however and then grope their way along Harry's body until he finds Harry's right hand. Louis takes it and guides it rather roughly over the book cover, pressing Harry's index finger over the little bumps.

“Yeah, now I see,” Harry says drily as Louis lets go of his hand. The boy only huffs in reply and punches out into the direction where he's felt Harry's chest a moment ago, hitting his ribs with quite some force.

“What- ow!” Harry complains, rubbing over his chest soothingly, an angry look directed at Louis.

“Stop looking at me like that,” the shorter boy says with a small shrug, picking up his bag from the ground and pulling it over his shoulder, almost hitting Harry in the face in the process. 

“You can't even see how I'm looking at you.”

“I can feel you frown, and it'll give you wrinkles. So don't do it,” he says like it's the most natural thing in the world and Harry only frowns harder to spite him, even though he isn't quite sure if Louis can actually feel him frown. Is that possible?

Before Harry can say another thing Louis is reaching out again, his left hand padding a ong Harry's chest softly before it comes to rest around his right elbow, squeezing lightly.

“Let's go then,” Louis prompts, giving Harry a gentle push.

“Where are we going?”

“I told you, you owe me. So treat me to some tea. Go on then.”

It takes Harry a moment and a couple of deep breaths to put it behind himself that what Louis says makes absolutely no sense. Something deep down inside him tells him though, to just let it go and so he follows Louis' soft tugs on his arms and leads the boy away from the building and towards the nearest coffee shop he can think of.

“We going to the student coffee shop on Macy's?” Louis wonders after they take another left turn.

“Um, yeah,” Harry says carefully. “That okay?”

Louis hums in approval and moves his hand up a little on Harry's arm. To Harry's great satisfaction Louis' fingers don't reach all the way around his arm, his finger tips digging lightly into the flexed muscle. (It might not even have anything to do with the width of Harry's biceps but more with how tiny Louis' hands are, but that's neither here nor there.)

“How'd you know where we're going?” Harry wonders after a while, making sure to look left and right extra carefully before crossing the road.

“I know my way around campus,” Louis simply replies, shrugging lightly.

“That well?”

“Well enough to know when you're bullshitting me, so don't even think about dragging me back to yours to have your wicked way with me,” Louis replies coolly and Harry splutters.

“I wasn't-” he starts, but Louis is giggling already, squeezing his arm tighter and pressing his nose into Harry's shoulder to suppress his laughter.

“Very funny,” Harry says drily after a while, trying to tug his arm out of Louis' grip before remembering that maybe that isn't the best idea. “You're the worst.”

“I know, I know,” Louis relents, bathing in the insult like it's a compliment. “I try my hardest.”

“Why am I buying you tea again?” Harry wonders out loud as they reach the shop, carefully holing the door open for Louis as well.

“Because you secretly really want to,” Louis says easily, following Harry's guidance easily. Harry only rolls his eyes, then remembers that Louis can't see him and thinks of something clever to say, but Louis is already two steps ahead. Quite literally this time.

“I'll grab a table, you go get tea,” he says over his shoulder, walking right towards a table in full strides. 

“Whow, easy tiger,” Harry rushes out and grabs his shoulders to slow his walk. Louis pouts and wrinkles his nose cutely before he lets Harry guide him towards a free table and tells him to sit and wait while Harry gets their drinks.

When he returns Louis has taken off his jacket and lifts his head just as Harry arrives with their two mugs in his hands.

“I like it when you call me tiger,” Louis says out of nowhere and Harry almost drops their teas.

“Don't drop the tea,” Louis says with a wide grin.

“You're horrible,” is all Harry gets out before setting down the mugs and dropping into the seat next to Louis, letting out a breath of air. He watches as Louis reaches out towards the table a little too forceful for Harry's liking and only gets out an “Don't burn yourself,” before Louis burns himself.

Harry can't help but laugh as Louis shakes his hand in the air with quiet hisses, growling at Harry's laughter.

“Not funny,” he murmurs in defeated, biting his lip. “Can you get me a napkin?”

“Sure,” Harry replies, getting up and walking over to the counter to retrieve some paper napkins. When he returns and presses them into Louis' hand, the blind boy jumps.

“Oh shit,” he curses, clutching the napkins. “Scared me. Hate this fucking place,” he mumbles on, wiping the remaining tea off his fingers.

“What's wrong with it?” Harry asks back, carefully taking the napkins out of Louis' hand and wiping down a few drops of tea from the table. Louis gives Harry a short puzzled look, like he wasn't quite aware he swore out loud, before taking a deep breath.

“I was just, er- 's no big deal,” he waves it off and Harry watches his nose wrinkle.

“Can you take your glasses off?” Harry asks and before he can wonder if maybe it wasn't the right thing to ask, if maybe Louis isn't comfortable without them, he's already taken them off.

“Better?”

“Uhu,” Harry hums approval.

“Now hand me that murderously hot tea.”

Harry laughs and does so, placing the mugs carefully and Louis' left hand, guiding his right hand towards milk and sugar, watching in awe as the blind boy fixes his tea with no further problems.

They sip their teas quietly for a while and Harry watches with interested as Louis' head perk up a bit whenever the doors opens and new customers come in or the girl on the table next to them laughs particularly loud. His eyes are steadily moving, with the sounds around them, like they're trying to focus on the sounds he can hear.

“Why do you hate this place?” Harry asks again after a while and if he wasn't watching Louis quite as closely he would have missed the way he jumped the tiniest bit. He turns his head to completely face Harry, his direction only a bit off.

“It's so loud,” he says with a sigh. Harry hadn't noticed. 

“Loud?”

“Yes, there's just- so many people talking and so many other sounds it's hard for me to differentiate or to locate. Like when you came back with the napkins? I couldn't hear you coming then. I'm usually pretty good with locating objects just with my hearing, but the louder my surroundings are, the harder it gets.” He finishes with a shrug and takes a sip of his tea.

“Do you wanna leave?”

“No, 's fine, really. As long as you're not moving around it's not much of a problem.”

“Okay, don't move. I can do that,” Harry says with a nod, trying to hold his body extra still. “What else?”

“What do you mean, what else?”

“What else makes things easier for you? I don't know, this is just interesting. Never really met a blind person before,” he says honestly and a small smile plays along Louis' lips.

“You make it sound like a school project rather than flirting,” Louis replies then, grinning openly.

“I wasn't-” Harry starts (even though he was, who is he kidding? That boy is gorgeous,) but Louis talks right over him.

“I have to rely on my other senses, obviously. Mostly feeling and hearing, sometimes smelling, rarely taste, because people don't really appreciate me licking everything, even though I tried it multiple times as a kid.” He's full on grinning now.

“Were you always..?” Harry trails off.

“Blind? No. My eyesight has always been bad though and it just got worse and worse. First I had to wear ridiculously thick glasses, but at some point, even those couldn't help any longer. I was nine at the time. It's okay, I suppose, I don't really remember not being blind or close to it. I'd say I mange quite well.”

“You read braille.”

“Yeah, you saw the books. That's for reading and some writing. Also, I love music and audio books, but I watch a shit ton of TV as well, so it's probably not all that different from how you spent your free time.”

“Except I can see.”

“Yeah, little bonus. But there's tricks you learn over time.”

“Really? Like what?” Harry asks, totally enamored by the other boy's life.

“Well, there is my talking phone and watch, my best friend Zayn who's like a guide-dog and little personal knick knacks. Like, I don't like people moving while I speak with them. It's hard to listen and locate them at the same time.”

“And you don't like when it's loud.”

“Yeah, that's just one of many things.”

“How do you remember people?” Harry asks, leaning forward in his seat.

“You're a curious one, aren't you?” Louis asks and laughs, leaning forward a bit himself, reaching out for the table and setting down his mug slowly. Harry is just about to apologize, when Louis continues. “It's nice though, kind of flattering. Makes me feel like you're actually listening to me.”

“I am,” Harry ensures, half embarrassed by how eager he sounds and half glad that he does, because Louis' answering smile is golden. He chuckles quietly, wringing his hands together.

“Most people I memorize by their voice.”

“'s how you remembered me?”

“Yeah. When I know them better I can usually recognized their step patterns.”

“Like how they walk?”

“Yeah, it's unique for everybody. It's not very easy to tell apart, but I can recognize my family and close friends in the way they walk up to me.”

“So cool.”

Louis' grin, again, is pure gold. Harry is way too fascinated after only twenty minutes of conversation.

“I sometimes feel people's faces, too. Gives me a vague idea of what they look like. I know other people like me do it with all the people they meet, but I don't really get it. 's not like I'm gonna touch your face before you say something to me, so I reckon it's easier to just remember the voices. But yeah, I still do it some times.”

“You wanna feel my face?”

Honestly, the words are out before Harry can even think about them and looking back this is probably the most stupid thing he said all day. All  _week_ probably.

Louis lets out a quick laugh.

“Are you asking me to grope you, Harry?” he chuckles in mock-disbelieve. “Why, not here in a coffee shop, dear, I'm sure you have standards. Maybe another time.”

“Okay,” Harry chocks out, his throat dry all the sudden. Louis is looking at him for a moment, a silent smile dancing across his lips, curling the edges upwards. 

“I think I need to be going,” he says then, fiddling with his wrist to find his watch and pressing a single button on the side.

“It is 4:38 PM, Master Tomlinson,” a male voice from the watch says and Louis nods along.

“Did the watch just call you _Master Tomlinson_?” Harry asks in disbelieve.

“Yes, yes. It's a good watch. Obeys its master.” He grins. “You can make it call you anything. Most people just have their first name or nothing at all, but I believe Master Tomlinson just suits me best,” he explains, like it's the most natural thing in the world. 

“Sure,” Harry replies with a laugh, starring fascinated at the little watch on Louis' wrist. He's been way too fascinated all day long. This isn't gonna end well.

“Alright, well, I really must be going. This was fun though,” Louis says, his voice high at the end of the sentence, like he isn't quite finished, or maybe like he's asking for something.

“Yeah,” Harry agrees, trying to read Louis' face. He's giving Harry a half smile, his eyes somewhat focused on him. “I would say thanks, but I treated you to some tea, so..” he trails off with a laughs and Louis slaps his leg. First try and he found his target quite alright.

“Well, I would say thanks as well, but you owed me, so. We're even.”

“We're even?” Harry asks amused, reaching out to stop Louis' hand from slapping him again and holding him still around the wrist.

“Yeah, even,” he replies and takes another breath, wriggling his wrist free from Harry's grip. “And it case you're waiting for the right moment to ask for my number, this is it.”

“Oh okay,” Harry laughs, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “You should give me your number then, we could do this again.”

“Fine,” Louis huffs like he hasn't just suggested to exchange numbers. After he recites his number to Harry, he grabs his jacket to pull it on.

“Do you want mine?” Harry asks, stowing his own phone away again.

“Nope, you'll have to text me,” Louis replies chirpy. 

“Can you even text?” Harry wonders, and it's not supposed to be mean or offensive, just curious.

“Obviously,” Louis huffs. “'s not like I'm disabled or something.” Harry stares at him for a moment as Louis shrugs on his jacket and gets up slowly.

“Actually,” Harry begins, getting up himself and making sure all the mugs are out of reach for Louis “it is _exactly_ like that.”

“Hush, minor details,” Louis says and brushes him off, swinging his bag over his shoulder and Harry is pretty glad he just moved the mugs out of the way. “Mind accompanying me to the next bus stop? I hate walking with my cane, makes me feel like I'm a hundred years old.”

“Sure,” Harry grins and almost automatically guides Louis' hand towards his own upper arm to lead the way, out of the coffee shop.

 

~

 

Harry is not overly prideful, but admitting how much time he spends thinking about Louis the days after their sort-of-tea-date, would just be hitting another low. He has  _some_ pride after all and so he makes it trough two and almost a half day before he texts Louis. Originally he had meant to wait three days, but on Wednesday night Niall brings two bottles of fine Irish Whiskey to Harry's and Liam's flat and well. Harry has always been a drunk texter.

“What should I say then?” he asks for at least the sixth time, because his friends are useless with advice and not really paying attention to him.

“Jesus, _Harry_ ,” Liam groans from the other end of the couch, frowning at the screen of the TV where he and Niall are playing Fifa, but Harry is pretty sure, that the frown is supposed to be directed at him. “Just say like ' _Hey it's Harry, wanna hang out some time?_ '.”

“Like that's gonna get him laid,” Niall shots from the floor, easily taking the ball off Liam and running across the field while Liam just keeps frowning. “Say something sexy. Something that gets him thinking about, you know.. you putting it in him. Or whatever.”

“Niall,” Harry whines, burying his face in his hands. “The computer voice from his phone is gonna read it out loud. Nothing's gonna sound sexy like that.”

“Want me to give it a shot?” he asks, extending his hand out backwards towards where Harry is sitting on the couch, all the while still playing with his other hand.

“No thanks, gross.”

“Your loss.”

And that's how it goes on for another two hours until the first bottle oh Whiskey is empty and Harry comes to think that  _'heyyyy whassup??'_ isn't too bad of a conversation starter after all. Sending the text message gets him a ridiculous round of applause from his friends which soon turns into a slap fight and then some drunk and on Niall's and Liam's part totally heterosexual wrestling. 

It's a good evening.

 

~

 

The next morning Harry wakes with a headache and a text from Louis waiting on his phone. He's a little confused at first and then remembers the hours of time he spend constructing a romantic and witty yet short and fun text before sending off the piece of crap he came up with last. This is really not fair.

_'I'll have you know that my phone had quite some trouble reading that out loud. I'll also have you know that I almost died of a heart attack because you sent the fucking thing at three in the morning, you arse tit.'_

Harry is a little taken aback. He lets his phone rest for a while and takes a shower and gets dressed to somehow rush to his lecture on time. Liam was kind enough to lay out fruits and little packages with aspirin in them for all three of them before they even started drinking and every time Harry is hunger over and finds his little Liam-packed-package he's reminded of just how great of an idea those are.

When he's sat in his lecture, trying to be sneaky to munch his banana and take another aspirin pill, he pulls his phone back out to take another look at Louis' text. In his early morning delirium he must be better off than drunk, because he decides for a quick apology and then a simple question to go out some time.

After he has sent the message he blinks at his screen for approximately ten seconds before he begins to panic.

 

~

 

Harry must have been good in some past life, because all panic was uncalled for. Louis text back saying he's glad Harry's ' _finally got your fucking shit together, jesus christ_ ' and agrees to go out. Two minutes later Harry's phone rings.

“Hey, so, I was wondering what you were thinking for our date? Like what to do? And when? Because I'm gonna need to know when to force Zayn to do the laundry, so I can have my clothes,” is rushed out all in one breath and Harry feels a little overwhelmed.

“Hello Louis.”

“Yes, hello, dear. Would you like me to repeat my question?” He sounds confused.

“No, that's alright, um. I was thinking maybe Saturday? And we could just stay in, I could cook for you. You'd be in familiar surroundings and it wouldn't be too loud and, yeah. What do you think?” Harry finishes timidly. He had thought a little bit about this, but not overly much.

“I think,” Louis starts after a long pause “you're trying to get away with a half arsed date.”

“What?” Harry splutters, accidentally biting his tongue.

“I wanna do something fun, like. Go to the fair. Or a wine tasting. The zoo. And I wanna do it tonight. My evening lecture got canceled and now I'm bored.”

“Okay,” Harry says timidly, not okay at all.

“Well great, I'm sure you'll come up with something. Let's say come pick me up at.. seven? That sound good?”

“Sure.” No.

“Alright, well see you later, Mr. Harry.” And then he hangs up and Harry just stares at his phone and. Well. To say that he's very surprised would be lie, however he isn't really prepared either. This is just a little much. How is he going to get tickets to a wine tasting in four hours? Or find a fair? Or anything that isn't the easy way out, as Louis put it?

Harry is screwed. He just stands and thinks for a couple of moments before the phone in his hand starts ringing again. The number is unknown and he gives it a suspicious look.

“Hello?”

“Hey Harry? This is Zayn, Louis' friend. The one mostly responsible for your crash?”

“Yeah, I remember, hi.”

“So, um, I'm calling because, well, Louis can be quite a handful and I was just gonna offer you a few pointers, if you need them.”

“God, please, go ahead,” Harry says in reply, feeling like Zayn is the second coming of Christ right now. The boy only laughs.

“Alright, well. You might have noticed already that Louis likes to blatantly ignore the fact that he's blind. I don't think his shins are ever _not_ bruised blue, so maybe just try to limit the things he runs into to a minimum.”

“Okay,” Harry nods.

“He's a bit like, well, like a little puppy? You've got to play with and tire him out and then give him a good cuddle before bed. And well, feed him, also.”

“This is really weird.” Zayn's wording is just really bad choice, Harry thinks. “Just tell me where to take him tonight. He said he wants to go to the fair?”

“Ah, yes, he's crazy like that. He just needs actions happening around him. Go to a flea market, Louis loves those. I thinks there's one on the other side of town this week, you should look it up on the Internet.”

“Okay, yeah.”

“Oh, and also. He's probably expecting to get kissed tonight, just.. putting that out there, you know.”

“What?”

And then Zayn hangs up.

 

~

 

It's two minutes before seven when Harry pulls up in front of Louis' building. He had texted him the address earlier and the area is nice, a little more posh than where Liam and Harry have their flat. Normally Harry would just wait in the car, but he doubts Louis will make it down a flight of stairs safely so he locks the car and rings the bell that has Zayn's and Louis' names next to it.

When he gets to the flat, Zayn is opening the door for him and calls Louis over a moment later. They chat idly as Louis wrestles his shoes on, refusing help from either of them (“I'm not a child!”).

Once they get going Louis slips his hand around Harry's upper arm right away and follows him down the stairs carefully. With how careful Louis is around the stairs as opposed to other things – like skateboards – makes Harry suspect that there has been more than one badly ending incident in the past.

“Where are we going?” Louis wonders curiously as Harry helps him get into the car.

“A flea market,” Harry replies as he gets into the car himself, turning to face Louis and watch his reaction. All he gets is a pout and a raised eyebrow underneath his sunglasses.

“You spoke with Zayn,” Louis states right away, almost accusingly.

“Yeah, I needed to check the Louis-manual.”

“Haha, very funny. Ruined all the fun now,” he pouts, huffing out some air.

“Doubt it,” Harry relents, because he's still pretty nervous.

“You're right, I can feel your nervousness all the way over here,” Louis says with a smirk, turning his body towards Harry as he starts the car.

“Liar,” Harry accuses, maybe a little too fast, because Louis just keeps smiling knowingly, mumbling “Whatever you say, love,” more to himself than anyone else. It's all a little unfair.

They drive for a while and Louis has groped his way over the little buttons and dials on the control to turn on the radio and change the station to something he likes. Harry is quite impressed.

“Can you take your glasses off?” he asks when he casts a look over at Louis, curious to see if his eyes are dancing with the music. Louis does as Harry asks wordlessly, fiddling with the sunglasses in his hands.

“Why do you wear them?” Harry wonders, trying to watch Louis while not killing the both of them in an accident. Louis only tilts his head curiously.

“Dunno, my eyes are spooky and freak people out apparently.”

“Who told you that?” Harry asks, honestly taken aback. Okay, so his eyes are glassy and move a little asymmetrically, but who has the audacity to tell a blind person that they look _spooky_? 

“Heard a couple of people say it. It's not like I've seen my eyes before, so..” He shrugs. “I don't much mind wearing the glasses, but sometimes I just forget.”

“Or you misplace them,” Harry puts in with a grin and Louis huffs out a laugh before slapping Harry's leg. He's a little off this time, but Harry will let him have it anyway.

“Either way, I really like your eyes,” Harry says after a while into the silence. Louis turns his face to look out the window, but Harry can still see the flush appearing on his cheeks.

When they get to the market Harry has to think back to how Zayn described Louis as an excited puppy, because right now Harry thinks calming one of those would be easier than trying to keep Louis from running into every direction he can hear or smell interesting things from.

“Someone's smoking weed,” is one of the first things Louis mutters into Harry's ear after they get there and Harry turns his head to stare down at Louis.

“Don't look at me like that, I can smell it,” he reasons, even though Harry can't smell a thing. “It's because you can see. Your other senses are dulled by your primary sense of seeing.”

“Okay, tiger,” he mutters and if he likes the way Louis' nails dig into his bicep at the nickname, then no one has to know.

They spend the rest of the evening wandering over the flea market and Harry hands Louis items and lets him feel them and is absolutely amazed by how well Louis can tell them apart, different fabrics and metals by the way how fast the warm in his hands or crinkle between his fingers. Harry can't stop watching Louis. He's buying him stupid little things that absolutely no one needs, but Louis loves them how can Harry say no? He is well and truly fucked and he knows it already.

They eat waffles and crepes and even though they're both full already, when they pass a candy apple booth and Louis looks at Harry with big (unfocused and glassy, but nevertheless beautiful) eyes and bites his lip until Harry's knees get weak he buys Louis one of those as well and they share it and it's all just pretty damn perfect.

Harry has such a lovely time especially when after all the food is eaten Louis lets his left hand rest against Harry's right arm, but reaches with his free hand for Harry's right hand and intertwines their fingers, so he's mostly pressed up against Harry's side. Which is not the most comfortable position to walk, but Louis explains that he needs to keep one hand on Harry's upper arm, because it apparently helps him read body language and therefore navigating. Harry doesn't quite understand, but Louis' sticky fingers are pressing into the molds between his, so it's all good. It's all very, very good.

On the drive home Louis keeps Harry's right hand in his lap, playing with his fingers or just letting them rest against his inner thigh as they keep talking.

When they reach Louis' apartment complex Harry helps him out of the car again, makes sure Louis has got all the little things Harry bought for him and then guides him carefully back up the stairs, never letting go of Louis hand, letting the other linger on his bicep. As they step in front of the door Harry guides Louis' hand towards the door knob so he knows where he is, can orientate himself in the room.

“Got all your new acquisitions?” Harry asks lowly, one of his hands resting on Louis' hip.

“Yeah, 'course,” Louis murmurs with a smile. “I'm gonna force Zayn to go buy some candles, so I can put up my new neon pink candle stand right away. I sure hope the color is as promising as you say.” He's grinning openly at Harry.

“Of course it is,” Harry ensures with a laugh, squeezing Louis' hip lightly. He is still not quite over the conversation he had with Louis over colors when he cracked up at the sight of the neon pink candle stand. Harry just can't imagine not knowing what any colors look like, but Louis says it's been too long for him and that he has forgotten about them already.

“I'm sure Zayn is gonna agree with me that this candle stand is an absolute necessity for your household.”

“I'm not to sure about that,” Louis gives back with a laugh, swaying forward a bit to rest his head against Harry's chest to stifle a laugh. Harry chuckles as well and lifts his arms to wrap them around the smaller boy, pulling him closer and squeezing him tight.

“That was really fun,” he says after a pause, tightening his grip the tiniest bit.

“Yeah,” Louis agrees and presses his lips to Harry's neck where he can feel them pull up into a smile. “Again?”

“Yes, we'll do this again,” Harry nods with a soft chuckle, slowly letting Louis out of his grip and taking half a step back. Before Louis' hands fall to his sides he takes them and lets their fingers intertwine for a moment.

“Have a good night,” he says, squeezing Louis' fingers and then takes a step back, to let go of Louis' hands. “Sleep tight, little tiger. Text me, yeah?” he says lowly as he reaches the stairs and turns back to Louis one last time. He mumbles back a response, but Harry is already halfway down the stairs, grinning like an idiot with his heart pumping wildly in his chest.

He is so endlessly, truly, massively fucked.

 

~

 

Harry thought he was fucked when he was endlessly happy, but now he is endlessly sad and he is definitely more fucked right now. Mostly because he doesn't know what he did wrong. Louis just doesn't text or call at all anymore. Harry had the plan to wait until Louis calls or texts first this time, but when after three days there had been nothing, he had given in and texted the boy a lunch invite for Monday between their classes.

It is Wednesday now and he has still gotten no reply whatsoever and it's starting to feel a lot like bitter rejection. Liam and Niall are as useless as ever, shrugging and keeping quiet with sad looks and bottles of Whiskey. (None of them even like Whiskey, they really need to reevaluate some choices in life. That is, after Louis stops being sad.)

So on Wednesday night Harry making another quick library run, because he still needs to return some books that were due last Friday –  _oops_ . It's raining outside and he's hustling to just get there and then back as fast as possible, because at home there's a tub of ice cream, topped with lots of Whiskey waiting for him and maybe some Disney movie. It's Liam's choice of film tonight.

He's sad already and now wet on top of everything and everything is just really sucky in general so of course he has to run into Zayn to just top things of with sucky-ness.

“Hey mate,” the boy calls, even though Harry does his best effort to hide his hair underneath his hood and to look the other way. Zayn still recognizes him.

“Hi,” Harry says in defeat, slowing his stride the tiniest bit to speak to the boy real quick.

“What's up? Haven't seen you around in a bit. Louis gotten too huffy with you?”

“Dunno, he's not speaking with me,” Harry replies icily, and maybe it's not Zayn's fault, but Zayn is Louis by association and it _is_ Louis' fault, so it's also Zayn's fault. A bit.

“Oh?” Zayn sounds surprised to hear that, stopping his walk completely. At least they're underneath a roofing now, so Harry isn't getting soaked even more as he stops a second later to stay with Zayn.

“What happened?”

“What do I know? You're the living Louis-manual,” Harry says drily, like he doesn't care, all the while he cares so freaking much he's about to rip Zayn's hair off if he doesn't tell him right away, what the fuck is wrong with his unseeing little friend.

“You didn't fight or..? Like anything that'd give him a reason not to speak with you?” Zayn wants to know and Harry only shrugs.

“Not that I know of.”

“Okay,” Zayn nods understandingly, like this happens all the time. “Yeah, that happens all the time.” 

_Great_ .

“I'll chat with him, don't worry, he'll come around,” Zayn ensures and pats Harry on the back. “Ring you later?”

“Um, sure,” Harry agrees with a shrug and answers Zayn's nod goodbye with one of his own and then blinks after the boy as he disappears around a corner, into the rain.

 

~

 

Zayn doesn't call. Harry does however get a text from the boy saying _'lous a right IDIOT, just come over and make up hes fucking GONE for you'_ . And that's, well.. Harry doesn't quite know how to reply. So he doesn't reply at all and goes to bed instead. It's too late to visit anyway and maybe he just needs a good night's rest to clear his head.

The entire next day is spent trying to understand just what exactly Zayn meant with his text. It's pretty literal and actually Zayn is being quite clear, but Harry just can't believe that it can be this easy.

Curiosity (and the fact that he's been sad for a  _week_ ) get the better of him though that evening and so after dinner he drives over to Louis' flat and bites his nails as he waits for the door to open. When it does, Zayn is stood on the other side.

“Thank God,” is all he says before pulling Harry inside. “And I thought you were gonna chicken out.”

“Um, no, I-” Harry begins as Zayn pushes him down the hallway towards a room near the end of it and through the open door. The room is empty, but it's pretty clearly Louis' room with braille books scattered over the bed.

“Take a seat, wait ten minutes. He's still in class right now, but he'll be back in no time,” he explains as he pushes Harry down onto the bed. “And don't. You dare. Leave,” he says slowly as he's backing out and Harry is honestly a bit scared right now. What a persistent room mate.

Thinking about how persistent Zayn is doesn't keep his brain entertained for the entire wait though and so he starts to panic two minutes into sitting in Louis' room. By the time he can hear a key rustling in the front door's lock he's worked himself up into a right frenzy. 

“It's okay,” he mutters to himself as he hears Zayn greet Louis casually. They chat for a short while before Zayn tells him to put his stuff in his room. _Smooth_.

Harry sits with his hearts beating in his chest like it's trying to beat some kind of record, trying to even out his breathing. He should be cool, calm, collected. Easy. Easy, tiger.

Louis hasn't even stepped completely into the room before his head snatches up and he looks in the general direction of where Harry is sitting. In moments like these it's hard to believe that the boy really can't see.

Louis drops his bag and stuffs his pockets into his hands, swallowing slowly.

“What are you doing here, Harry?” he asks, voice small but steady.

“How'd you-” Harry starts and then bites his tongue, because that's not how he wanted to start this. He planned this out, he-

“I can hear you breath from the hallway. Are you okay?” he wonders timidly, still not looking up at Harry.

“Yeah, I- I, um.” He takes another breath. “Is there a reason that you ignored me all last week?”

Harry watches closely as Louis goes stiff at the question, biting his lip uncomfortably and digging his hands even deeper into his pockets.

“Is there a reason you didn't kiss me after the flea market?” he asks back and Harry only blinks at him. What does that have to do with anything?

“Um, no I just- I wasn't sure if you wanted me to,” he replies honestly, shrugging a bit even though Louis can't see it.

“Yeah,” Louis breathes, quiet and soft. “I actually really wanted you to.”

“Okay,” Harry breathes back and he watches Louis. Watches the posture of his body, the way he tilts his hips forwards and his chin upwards, just a bit. It's the same posture Louis was in after the flea market, when they were both stood in front of Louis' door, but this time Harry knows what it means.

And he doesn't hesitate before pushing himself up off the bed and taking three big steps towards Louis before he can cup his cheeks into his hands. He halts another second to make sure Louis isn't pushing him off before pressing his lips softly down onto Louis'. The smaller boy makes a timid noise, somewhere in the back of his throat before winding his fingers into the front of Harry's shirt and pulling closer, pushing their bodies together.

“Okay,” Louis gasps into his mouth and pushes him backwards a bit until Harry gets the idea and pulls them towards the bed, mindful to kick the door shut before he goes, pulling Louis on top of him on the bed.

They're half laying on books and other college stuff from Louis, but it's okay, because Louis' tiny hands are pulling on the collar of Harry's shirt to deepen the kiss and Harry can take a few bumpy books digging in his back for that.

Carefully and without breaking the kiss Harry scoots back even further, pulling Louis with him until he's resting against the headboard and Louis is straddling his hips. He grips him tight around the waist and lets him guide the kiss, gasping for air as they break it, laughing into each other's mouths.

“We could be doing this since last week already,” Louis says lowly and teasing, leaning in again to nip along Harry's jaw.

“'s not just my fault though,” Harry replies, pulling Louis closer by his hips. “Instead of ignoring me after not getting what you want, you could have just used your mouth, like normal people would.”

“Normal, huh?” Louis hums, right into Harry's ear, biting the lobe. “Normal's not my style.”

“I see,” Harry gasps as Louis sucks on the skin underneath his ear, biting lightly, scraping his teeth over it. “Maybe you should try it though, if this-” gasp “is going to be a thing.”

Louis halts at that, his mouth still right below Harry's ear, breathing softly and tickling his skin.

“Like a boyfriends thing?” he asks, digging his fingers deeper into Harry's chest and bicep.

“Yeah. If you want,” Harry replies softly, letting his thumbs rub in circles over the exposed skin on Louis' hips.

“Okay, yeah,” breathes Louis softly before pulling back far enough to lean his forehead against Harry's, his eyes closed. “One more thing though..”

“Yeah?”

“Can I feel your face?” Louis asks softly, quiet, almost as if he's afraid Harry would possibly say no. Like Harry could say no to anything Louis asks of him.

“You mean, can you grope me?” he asks back playfully, giving Louis' hips a squeeze.

“For now, I mean just your face, pervert,” Louis replies lightly, pinching Harry's arm easily.

“ _For now_ , uhu,” Harry hums contently, chuckling some more. “Go ahead, tiger. 's all yours.”

“Okay,” Louis hums in concentration, running his hands carefully up Harry's chest and then along his neck to the sides of his face. “Close your eyes,” he murmurs and waits a moment before running his thumbs along Harry's cheek bones. He feels his ears, his temples and his hair, carding his fingers through it.

“What color are they?” Louis asks, tugging on another of Harry's curls.

“Brown. Bit like chocolate,” he answers lowly, keeping his eyes closed. 

“My mum says she has brown hair as well. And so do I, she says,” Louis says lowly, running his fingers along the nape of Harry's hair and then back up to his forehead.

“Yours is lighter than mine,” Harry replies right away, still keeping his eyes closed and Louis hums quietly in reply.

From the forehead he lets his fingers travels gently down the nose and over the eyebrows, very softly over the eyelids and eyelashes. Then he travels lower to the chin and back to the cheekbones. 

“Hmm, okay,” he hums when he's done, placing a feathery light kiss to Harry's lip.

“You skipped my mouth,” Harry remarks, pouting his lips a little so Louis can feel it against his own.

“That's cause I already know what it feels like. Lips are more sensitive than fingertips anyway,” he says with a sly smile before pressing their lips together again.

“Oh yeah?” Harry mumbles, trying not to break the kiss.

“Yepp,” Louis replies, leaning back a bit. “More neuronal endings and stuff,” he says nodding proudly. “Biology AP classes.”

“Overachiever,” Harry mutters playfully, letting his hands scoot a bit higher to tickle Louis.

“Hey, stop it,” the smaller boy squeals, trying to fight Harry hands off and to tickle back at the same time, which only ends in him grabbing a bit too low and landing a hand on Harry's crotch which-

“You're hard,” Louis remarks bluntly and Harry realizes it at the same time.

“I-” he begins to stammer, trying to adjust himself with his sheer willpower, but Louis gives his crotch a good squeeze and Harry can't help but choke out a half moan. “Did you just get hard from me touching your face?”

“You said it yourself, more neuro-somethings and well,” he shrugs helplessly. “It was really intimate.” All the sudden he is really glad that Louis is blind and can't see the deep blush spreading across his face and chest. But of course Louis can feel it and the way he presses his hand closer to Harry's neck and a knowing smirk dances along his lips, Harry knows that Louis knows.

“You know I'm never gonna let you live that down, don't you? You got off on me touching your face, you-” Louis drawls out but Harry grabs his wrist and flips them over. And okay maybe it's a little unfair because Louis literally doesn't see it coming, but once Harry is on top of him, pressing him down with his body weight and his lips, hitching up his leg until they're tangled up pretty good, Louis doesn't seem to mind all that much anymore.

 

**Author's Note:**

> What did you guys think? Some comments would mean the world to me :)
> 
> Alsom find me on tumblr: hannahazza.tumblr.com


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